


so just hush

by robokittens



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:27:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4505961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robokittens/pseuds/robokittens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's amazing how Bittle can just take what he wants, when Jack finds it so hard to ask for anything. But there's no doubt now that Bittle wants to have sex — wants to get fucked, wants Jack to fuck him. And Jack, oh, he'd give him anything.</p>
<p>Except.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so just hush

**Author's Note:**

> in this fic jack gets talked into doing something he secretly wants to do anyway, but thinks is a bad idea. i didn't think it warranted a dubcon label, but ymmv.
> 
> thank you to [reserve](http://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/) for looking it over!

The first time, Jack doesn't even realize he's saying no.

He's unwrapping the condom with shaky hands, disbelieving — that he gets to do this, that after all his stupid longing and pining, Bittle said that he liked Jack too; Bittle pressed his lips sweet and earnest to Jack's cheek; Bittle finally let Jack pay for coffee; Bittle kissed Jack a little less sweetly. Let Jack into his bed.

"Shit," Jack says as the condom tears. He laughs, nervous. He's never done that before.

"It's ok," Bittle says, too quickly. "I want — we can just —"

Jack shakes his head. "I've got another," he says, and leans over the bed to fish his wallet out of his jeans pocket. He keeps his eyes wide open while he does it, because he doesn't know what Bittle was suggesting exactly, but he doesn't want to let himself fantasize about it. (His head in Bittle's lap, Bittle stroking his hair and stroking over the shape of his cock in Jack's mouth; fucking between Bittle's slick thighs, Bittle squirming beneath him as Jack's cock nudges up against his balls.) Not now. Not when he's so close.

"Yeah," he says, and holds up the little foil packet, triumphant. "Here."

—

"Wanna feel you," Bittle says. Jack pushes him down onto the mattress. He doesn't lay down on top of Bittle, not quite; he's still a little afraid of crushing him. But he props himself up over him and leans down to take one of Bittle's nipples into his mouth.

"Mmhmm," Jack says. Bittle gasps. Jack shifts his weight onto one forearm, reaches with the other hand to pinch the nipple he'd just been sucking on, then the other in turn. Bittle gasps again.

He moans out something that's almost Jack's name, squirms beneath him. Jack smiles into Bittle's chest, presses a dry kiss there, then one that's dirty, open-mouthed.

"I want you to fuck me," Bittle says, and he sounds so serious. All Georgia in that moment, and more than a little bit commanding. It's not a request that leaves much room for argument, but oh, Bittle's so lovely when he's aching for it. (Jack still can't believe that's a thing he knows, that that's a thing he gets to know.)

Jack's straddling Bittle now, both thumbs pressing on his nipples while he nips at Bittle's collarbones.

"I want to suck your dick," he says honestly. 

Bittle's head thumps back against the pillow. "Ok," he says, breathy. "Ok."

—

"We're exclusive, right?"

Jack slowly blinks his eyes open. Bittle's right there, almost too close to see, flushed and smiling sweetly.

"Of — of course," he stutters out. "Is that — is there someone — else? If you want …" He trails off. It would be one thing to say that he could share Bittle; he could make the words come out like he's lied a million times before. ("It's fine, it's fine, I'm fine.") But it's another thing to mean it. He can't imagine meaning it.

"Don't be silly," Bittle says. He reaches out to card his fingers through Jack's hair. Jack closes his eyes at the touch. "I was just checking," Bittle says, and Jack makes a soft, vaguely affirmative sound in reply.

Bittle's fingers keep combing through Jack's hair, and Jack slowly starts to drift off. Bittle says his name twice, three times before he finally replies. "Mmm?"

Bittle laughs. "I'm guessing you don't want to go again."

Jack starts to shake his head, stops when he realizes it might dislodge Bittle's fingers.

"No," he murmurs, and reaches out to tug Bittle closer.

—

Jack takes a deep breath. "Bittle —" he says. "I don't think that's a good idea."

—

He can't stop thinking about it. Bittle under him, and nothing — 

—

Bittle nuzzles up under Jack's chin, presses tiny kisses to the underside of his jawline.

He's draped over Jack, and Jack's got both his hands on Bittle's ass. He kneads the flesh there, pulls his cheeks apart and runs a thumb teasingly light over his asshole just to hear him gasp, tugs him up so their cocks sit against each other. Tilts his own head back so Bittle can get at that soft spot behind his ear.

"About what I said the other day," Bittle says hesitantly. He's quiet, but that close up to Jack's ear it just registers as noise. Jack doesn't say anything, just keeps stroking his fingers down the cleft of Bittle's ass. Bittle noses against Jack's jaw again; his breath is speeding up on Jack's neck.

It's amazing how Bittle can just take what he wants, when Jack finds it so hard to ask for anything. But there's no doubt now that Bittle wants to have sex — wants to get fucked, wants Jack to fuck him. And Jack, oh, he'd give him anything.

Except.

"I don't think it's a good idea," he says, finally processing what Bittle has said. Bittle's ass flexes under his hands, like he's trying to hold Jack's finger in place where it's teasing over his hole.

"I trust you," Bittle says. He sounds earnest and desperate at the same time, squirming back into Jack's hands.

Jack moves one of his hands from Bittle's ass and cups his chin instead, turning his head so they're face to face. "I trust you too," he says. "That's not. It doesn't matter, that's not how it works."

"But I'm clean." His tone is plaintive now, soft, drawling. "You're clean too, right?"

Jack hesitates. "It's been … a while since I've been tested." 

"But I trust you."

"That's not how it works," Jack says again, and leans in for a kiss.

Bittle lets him, lets Jack press their lips together, lets Jack into his mouth so their tongues can slide against each other, slick and wet and suddenly needy, Bittle grinding down against him.

Jack moans into Bittle's mouth.

Bittle shifts suddenly, pulls himself out of Jack's grasp and resettles, his cock sliding across Jack's abs and Jack's cock suddenly pressed up against Bittle's ass. His mouth is still fastened to Jack's, barely a break in the kiss as he situated himself. Jack breathes out into Bittle's mouth, shaky. 

"Take me," Bittle says.

Jack lets out a noise, a broken sort of "ah!" and wrenches his mouth away.

He'd been so afraid at first, of hurting Bittle — and he has, he knows, in the past; he'd been so cruel, so scared of getting close. He isn't … isn't always nice, when he likes someone. The two don't correlate, he's learned the hard way. But he wants to be nice to Bittle, be nice for him. Wants to give him everything.

"Jack," Bittle says, insistent. He presses his ass back against Jack's cock. Jack's so hard it hurts.

"It's a bad idea," Jack says, and Bittle smiles.

"I don't have any condoms," he says. "You'd have to go get some. You'd have to … get dressed." His voice drops when he says it, half tease and half threat, like it's the darkest option, the worst consequence.

Jack presses his head to the pillow, closes his eyes. "There are other things we can do," he says. His voice sounds a little strangled, even to him.

"I want you," Bittle says, enunciating clearly, "to fuck me."

And he wants, god he wants. He can imagine — he can almost feel Bittle around him, warm and impossibly tight, all hot muscle and slick with lube. The drag of friction. 

"I want to feel you _in me_ ," Bittle says, and Jack breathes out, "Yeah, yeah, ok." He knows how desperate he sounds. 

Bittle sits up, and Jack reaches down blindly, finds the lube where he knows Bittle keeps it in the space between his bed and desk. He offers it to Bittle. "Can I — let me see you."

"Oh," Bittle whispers, and takes the bottle. He's wide-eyed suddenly, like he can't believe this is happening. Jack knows the feeling. He drizzles the lube onto his fingers; some of it slips between them and lands on Jack's stomach. Jack shivers.

He can see the way the muscles tense in Bittle's arm, the way his eyes shut, the way he bites his lip. "Two?" he guesses, and Bittle nods shakily. Never small measures, with Bittle. Jack has to fight to hide a grin, even as his dick pulses against his own abs.

"Turn around," he says. "Let me see you."

Bittle's head drops forward, his shoulders heaving. He shifts, awkward, until his back is on display, until he's straddling Jack's thighs, bending forward and pushing two fingers back up into his ass.

"God," Jack breathes out. "You look — amazing. You look so good."

And then Bittle moans, a soft and broken sound. "Jack," he says, breathing uneven. "Jack, I can't — I need more, I need you."

The sound Jack makes in reply isn't really a word, but then he's moving, coaxing Bittle to climb off his legs so he can sit up. He presses a kiss to Bittle's shoulder. He moves back, tries to move back, to give himself access, but the head of his cock brushes against Bittle's ass and they both groan.

"Should —" Jack starts, and Bittle nods fervently. 

Jack grabs the lube and slicks his cock up as quickly as he can, then pushes Bittle forward onto his hands and knees. "I'm gonna —" he says, and Bittle nods again.

"Jack," he says, "Yeah," and Jack lines himself up and pushes. It's a long, slow moment until the head of his cock makes its way through and into Bittle's body, and they both let out long, slow breaths when it does.

"Oh, God," Bittle says, at the same time Jack says "Oh, fuck." He laughs a little, shaky, and his hips give an experimental thrust.

He's barely an inch into Bittle and it's already almost too intense to handle.

He pushes in. It's … he'd barely let himself imagine, but oh. It's everything he'd imagined and more. His hips piston, more quickly than he meant, and he forces himself to slow.

Bittle's head drops forward into the bedsheets. "Oh, God," he says, and again: "Oh, God. Have — Jack, have you ever —"

And Jack wants to say no. He wants Bittle to be the first, doesn't want to flash back to another blond head bowed into a pillow, the way he dragged his fingers down another spine until he found the place their bodies joined. He wants —

"Never from the bottom," he says honestly. Hoarsely. His throat hurts, suddenly.

"Feels amazing," Bittle says. He's holding himself so still, so still.

Jack moves. In and out, in and out, so slowly it hurts. He fucks into Bittle in time with his breathing, feels the air punch out of Bittle's lungs, listens to the "ah! ah! ah!" barely muffled by the sheets. The warm friction of Bittle around him is like nothing he's ever felt before. He's not going to last much longer.

The thought of coming inside Bittle is almost enough for him to do it then and there, and he forcibly stops them both with a hand on Bittle's hip.

"'mgonna," he grits out, and Bittle breathes something that's almost a "Yes."

It almost hurts to pull out.

What hurts more is the sound that Bittle makes, a broken cry that he can't quite manage to hush in time. Jack freezes, the head of his cock barely pulled free of Bittle's hole. He presses a hand to the small of Bittle's back.

"Hey," he says quietly. "Are you ok?" His heart's still racing, his cock is still aching, but that didn't seem like a good noise and Bittle's comfort is paramount.

"What are you _doing_?" Bittle says, and Jack notices for the first time that he's got a hand under himself, that he's still jerking his own cock even as Jack pats his back soothingly. "I want — I wanna feel you."

It takes a moment for Jack to realize what Bittle means, and he sits up abruptly on his heels. "Bittle. I can't — I can't come _in_ you."

"But —" 

Jack cuts Bittle's protest short with a hand on his shoulder. Bittle's hand on his cock falters, stops. Jack pulls Bittle flush against him, one hand low on Bittle's belly. "C'mon," he murmurs into Bittle's ear. His cock is pressed between them, in the small of Bittle's back, and Jack knows he can feel it.

Bittle's arms come up to loop awkwardly around Jack's neck, pulls his head down even as he tilts his own head up for a kiss. It's soft at this angle, hardly more than a press of lips, until Bittle opens his mouth. Their tongues barely touch. It's electric.

"C'mon," Jack says again, and his hand on Bittle's belly drops lower to wrap around the base of his cock. Bittle moans against Jack's lips, a sweet sound. Jack moves his hand slowly, keeping it loose and easy, relishing in the sound he pulls out of Bittle, who's given up on kissing and tipped his head back onto Jack's shoulder. His eyes are closed, his lashes fluttering.

Jack presses his lips to Bittle's forehead. "Come for me," he whispers. Bittle's hips jerk. Jack tightens the circle of his fingers, loosens it, tightens it again as Bittle fucks up into it, as he feels Bittle shiver under his touch, against him, as he feels Bittle's come drip down onto his fingers.

He absently brings that hand up to rest at the hollow of Bittle's throat, and kisses Bittle's forehead again. "Good," he says quietly, and Bittle slumps back against him.

Bittle is so lax against him. It's nothing to get an arm around Bittle's ribcage and pull him up, just a little, just enough that he can get his cock in the sweat-slick crease of Bittle's ass. Jack's arm tightens around Bittle's chest, holding him there, as he fucks up against him.

"Feel so _good_ ," he says into the back of Bittle's neck. 

Bittle mumbles something. Jack makes a questioning noise into the fine hairs at Bittle's nape, presses a kiss there. "C'mon," Bittle says, and then, stronger, "Come on me. C'mon, do it, _please_."

" _Oh_ ," Jack gasps out, and a few more thrusts and he's coming, warm and shivery and pulling Bittle even tighter to him as he shudders through it.

After a moment Bittle twists himself around, heedless of the come drying on his chest, on his back, on his neck, and pushes Jack down onto the bed. He drapes himself over Jack, kisses his chest. "Thank you," he says quietly. 

Jack laughs, and runs a hand through his sweaty hair. "You're welcome," he says dryly. And then, serious, "We can't do this again."

"Jack —"

"Not — not unless we get tested. Until we do." He frowns. "This was stupid."

Bittle smiles up at him, beatific. "But amazing."

"But stupid," Jack repeats, but he's smiling as he tugs Bittle up for a kiss.

—

Jack had asked Bittle out for coffee at least a dozen times before Bittle realized he was asking him on dates. Those didn't count, Bittle had insisted; their anniversary couldn't be a date only one of them knew was a date. (Jack had smiled, whispered, "Anniversary," like they already knew they'd get there.)

Their first date was at Annie's. Their tenth is to Boston, for gelato and for a clinic where they can be anonymous, won't have to worry about anyone from school seeing them.

"Here," says Bittle, and holds out his spoon. "It's pistachio. Taste it!"

The gelato is an unpleasant shade of green. It doesn't look like something Jack should be eating, that anyone should be eating, really. But if Bittle likes it … well, it's got to be good. He'll try it.

—

**Author's Note:**

> in between all these scenes they're going to class and playing hockey and stuff, i swear. also i almost tagged this for "top!jack" like it's some kinda oldschool fandom; it's such a bizarre concept and i hope i was able to pull it off. title 100% from ke$ha's "blah blah blah" bc i am a class act.
> 
> i'm also on [tumblr](http://robokittens.tumblr.com)!


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